


Bleeding Into You

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mind Meld, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro Big Bang 2017, peering into mindholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Shiro thought he'd adjusted well to everything. Getting captured by an evil alien empire, escaping from said empire, becoming part of a giant mecha destined to topple the evil empire with four other teens. He even thought he'd gottne the hang of mind melding with his friends.He just hadn't considered the consequences that came with peering into each other's mindholes. Lately, he's been aware of just how much Lance has been reacting to things Shiro's seen, stuff that's happened to Shiro, and Shiro's even been having thoughts that might not be his own...





	Bleeding Into You

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! The big bang is here!
> 
> Fantastic art by oligreyart, 13bella, and nevermoree-the-raven over on tumblr.  
> Incredible banner by 13bella and nevermoree-the-raven.

It wasn't that often that they had to sneak aboard one of the Galra fleet ships, but Pidge insisted once they caught that it was a prisoner transport. Truth be told, Shiro wanted to find Sam and Matt just like Pidge, and was in agreement with Hunk that they needed to save the prisoners. He had said that they had a job saving people, not just fighting the Galra. Keith had covered up a snicker, muttering something about family business, but Shiro let it slide, not wanting to find out what old TV reference he had made.

Which led to now, where Shiro was facing off with at least ten drones without backup. Hunk and Keith were back in their lions, drawing attention away from the infiltration team of Shiro, Pidge, and Lance. They'd made it deep inside the ship, and were escorting the freed prisoners (none human, although three looked similar to cuttlefish and skittered quickly along their feet) before they were besieged by drones. Lance had shot five down before ushering the prisoners along toward the escape pods, led by Pidge, leaving Shiro alone to fight off the drones.

Really, Shiro blamed Pidge for that. He'd been perfectly happy taking on maybe half the drones while Lance sniped out the other half, but no such luck. Pidge's eternal boasting about how he'd taken out “like a dozen” drones back when they were getting Keith's lion (really, Shiro was sure it was more like half that number, he'd had the element of surprise on hand, and was reacting almost entirely on instinct – Shiro hadn't a clue what he'd done or how he'd done it until it was over) left everyone with a deeply skewed idea of just how much Shiro could actually handle.

He was only human. Did none of them remember his first time against the gladiator bot? Or that first week? He'd had to train with it for hours on end before he froze up in some kind of flashback. He hadn't even figured out how to set the training room to dispense multiple gladiator bots, and was incredibly wary to do so. On a good day—which this was—Shiro suspected he could reliably take on four at once.

So. Ten drones. No backup—or, none that was quick to come, if he called for it.

He could survive this. He _would_ survive this.

Hand lighting up a bright purple, Shiro grimaced at the absurdity of what he was about to do, and struck out. The drone nearest to him fired its blaster, and Shiro held out his right hand, catching and deflecting the laser blasts. Rushing toward the drone, Shiro took hold of the blaster, pointing it up and away as he sliced through the arm and into the torso in a sharp stab. The other drones took it as their cue to start firing, and Shiro used the now-dead drone's body to block the blasts as he pushed forward.

The second drone went down when Shiro plowed into it, holding its ground long enough for his hand to fully cut through the first drone and into the second. Twisting his hand into a fist, Shiro pulled his arm out of the drones, taking hold of the blaster from the first drone and firing wildly around him, hitting the others where he could. His aim wasn't great, but it was more than enough to take out another drone and damage two others.

Leaping into a tight spin, Shiro sliced through the damaged drones and one other, using it as a quick shield as he blasted at the remaining half dozen drones. They spread out, and Shiro grunted as he felt a blast graze his left thigh, falling to one knee. In retaliation, Shiro blasted that drone's head clear off.

The nearest drone held a close-combat weapon—the axe-sword he'd used when fighting against Myzax the Champion—and lashed out at Shiro, and he spun out of the way, already on the move to slicing that drone in half. Snagging the axe-sword in his free hand, Shiro snarled as he pressed down on another drone, using the axe-sword to disguise his right hook shoving itself into the drone's torso. He tossed the weapon aside and chose to haul the drone up, swinging it around to smash into another drone.

Two drones were left, and Shiro grinned viciously as he fell upon them, ripping one in half before beheading the other. Straightening up, Shiro breath heaved as he looked around at the destruction all around him, and he grimaced at the pain in his left leg—the blast hadn't grazed him so much as it had strafed his leg, leaving behind a long and painful stripe of blackened armor. He didn't need to take it off to know that the flesh beneath it was badly burned. His arm deactivated, the purple glow fading away.

“I'm just like a Jedi.” Shiro looked around for someone to get the joke, before remembering that nobody was there to hear it. He pouted, making a note to remember that joke when he retold the fight to Keith. Their mutual love of Star Wars

Shiro grunted when a blast hit his right shoulder, and he stumbled, turning to spot a drone—a thirteenth drone, Shiro realized. He gripped his injured shoulder, looking around wildly for cover. Shiro needed time to regroup, needed distance, needed a nearby weapon. But the nearest weapon was too far away, and with his shoulder injured, Shiro couldn't defend himself. The drone raised its blaster, taking aim at Shiro. Two blasts shot through the drone's chest, right where the heart would be, and a third in the dead center of the head. Shiro gaped, watching the drone fall to the ground, and turned to look behind him.

“You okay?” Lance asked, peering around the corner, his bayard at the ready. Once he determined that the hallway was secured, he stepped out, whistling at the damaged drones scattered across the floor. “Holy crow, that's a lot.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, grunting and biting back a hiss of pain as he got to his feet. The injury to his thigh made it's displeasure more than known when he placed his weight on his left leg, and he grit his jaw against the pain that came when he tried to move his right arm. “I managed.”

“Uh, are you okay?” Lance asked, lowering his rifle and staring at Shiro warily. “Because you look kind of...”

He trailed off, using his pointer finger to gesture at the way Shiro was leaning all his weight on his right leg and favoring that side. For a brief moment Shiro considered smiling and shrugging it off, but the dual pains stopped him.

“I got banged up a bit,” Shiro grunted, and Lance hopped over the destroyed drones to hook himself underneath Shiro's left arm. “I wouldn't recommend going up against a dozen of these guys at once.”

“True,” Lance chuckled, before looking up at Shiro in concern. “Seriously, though, _are_ you okay? This was a lot, even for you.”

Shiro gave Lance a wan grin. “I managed.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Lance grumbled, looking down as they rounded a corner. Shiro's eyes widened at the sight of a drone in the middle of the hallway, and Lance shot it twice—once in the chest and once in the head, both perfectly in the middle. Glancing up from the floor, Lance raised an eyebrow before shooting Shiro a sly grin. “All that training's paying off.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, blinking down at the fallen sentry in shock. “Training.” Lance hadn't really made that perfect set of shots blind, had he? “Maybe I should get myself looked over. I think I hit my head or something.”

“Not just your leg and shoulder?” Lance asked, before bobbing his head in concession. “Alright then! Let's get out of here!”

It wasn't until later that Shiro realized he hadn't mentioned his leg getting hurt.

* * *

Breakfast, Shiro decided, was much better now that Hunk could cook.

It was even better once Hunk and Shiro had both realized that Hunk could cook where Shiro set everything he tried to bake on fire (literally, in more than one instance—Shiro still wasn't sure where he went wrong with that box cake mix that it set itself on fire and scorched his oven a sooty black). After the Noodle Incident, Shiro had been banned from the kitchen without an escort and close supervision, and he'd been all the better for it since.

Cutting into his waffles, Shiro squinted as the crisp outside gave way to a gooey inside.

“Uh, Hunk?” Shiro called out, leaning away from his plate of waffles as they slowly oozed a red goo beneath their blue exterior. “Are the waffles supposed to do this?”

“Huh?” Hunk poked his head up to look at Shiro's plate, before brightening, stars in his eyes as he turned his full culinary force upon the older teen. “Yeah! Turns out there's this really awesome berry that grows in warm climates on, like, this one planet–”

“Yvetal,” Coran added, happily munching on his own waffles.

“Yeah, that,” Hunk acknowledged with a grin. “So, when you mash them up with some of the grain flour from Olkarion and half a tuber from Arus, they turn into this really cool batter that cooks up blue with a gelatinous inside that turns all fluffy crunchy when you put it in your mouth.” Hunk grinned, satisfied. “It's so awesome! And also it's space Belgian waffles.”

“Dude, you need to make a cookbook,” Lance praised between bites. He paused, looking over at Shiro, and hummed. Swallowing his mouthful, he continued. “The taste might be a bit weird at first but it's like if strawberries and blueberries had a lovechild.”

“Don't make it gross.” Pidge elbowed Lance in the ribs, giving him a mildly disgusted look. Pausing, she nodded. “But you're right. It's sweet like strawberries but it's got a tangy aftertaste like blueberries.”

“I guess I'm opting out of Waffle Wednesday, then,” Shiro groaned, pushing his plate away mournfully. “I'm allergic to blueberries.”

“But they're space berries,” Hunk pointed out. He held up his hands in defeat when Shiro turned his gaze onto him. “Not arguing, just stating a fact.”

“I didn't know you were allergic to blueberries,” Keith mused, reaching out to steal Shiro's plate of waffles for himself. He glared at Lance when the other snagged the plate, dragging it toward himself with nimble fingers and a smug grin.

“I don't get a rash,” Shiro explained, feeling his face flush in embarrassment. “My stomach just can't process them.”

“Aaaah,” Hunk hummed. “Yeah, I get that. Gastrointestinal allergies are the _worst_. It really limits the kind of stuff you can make for a person. But I love a good challenge.”

“Hunk once made a vegan lasagna that tasted divine,” Lance agreed. “Who did you make it for?”

“Lucy,” Hunk replied. “Remember? She was the one with the–”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, her.” Lance nodded, smiling. “She really liked you.”

Hunk flushed, angrily waving at Lance. “She did not! She just liked me for my food.”

Lance leaned closer to Shiro, muttering, “That's what they all said at first.”

Shiro coughed to hide his laughter, although Hunk still gave both him and Lance heavy side-eye. Shiro got the impression that Hunk was playing it up a lot more than he was, and Shiro offered up his most innocent look, the same one that got him out of trouble for messing with the simulator and having it play the Star Wars soundtrack.

Lance choked on a bite of waffle, and Shiro started, slapping Lance on the back to clear his throat.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, when Lance's coughing died out, leaving him hunched over the table, heaving for breath.

“Fine,” Lance gasped, looking up at Shiro with a grin. “Just– remembering that story about the simulator breaking down.”

“Which time?” Shiro asked, blinking as he tried to recall what Lance was talking about.

“The one where it wouldn't stop playing Star Wars as background music,” Lance replied, and Shiro snorted, covering his mouth to muffle his smile.

“That seriously happened?” Keith snorted. “I heard it was just a legend.”

“It's not a legend!” Lance protested, straightening up. He looked like an upset cat, puffed up and hissing. “I mean, fine, there was a legend, but it's totally true! I talked to Professor Montgomery a while back about getting some extra hours on the simulator and he got all huffy about the new rules against anyone going near it outside of approved hours. And then I heard the legend from Aram when I complained about that.”

“What is this legend?” Allura asked.

Shiro regained his most innocent face as he added, “I've never heard of it.”

Lance paused, squinting up at Shiro like he knew something, although Shiro couldn't quite say what. After a moment, he grinned. “Okay, so the way the legend goes is...”

* * *

Shiro sat up in bed, chest heaving. His shirt clung to him, same as the blankets, all doused in sweat. Throwing off the soaked blankets, Shiro stepped away from the bed. He grabbed at the shirt, pulling at it until it was off, until it no longer clung to his skin.

At his movement, the lights bloomed on, giving Shiro full view of the room. His armor lay in a heap on the floor nearby, the soaked shirt tossed beside it. His own clothes were folded, clean and dry and sitting in the small alcove beside his bed. Standing away from the bed, Shiro grimaced at the idea of leaving his blankets to wallow, and bundled them up, tossing them and his pajamas into the laundry chute. Pulling on his clothes, Shiro left the room, pacing through the hallways aimlessly, hoping that the repetitiveness and quiet would calm his racing mind.

After twenty minutes, Shiro stepped into the kitchen to get a water pack, and bumped into Lance of all people. The small bowl of food goo in his hands nearly fell, but Shiro caught it, and looked Lance over. Donned in his robe and with a towel wrapped around his hair, Shiro almost missed the mask smeared over Lance's face. “Lance? What are you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep,” Lance replied, taking hold of the bowl. “Bad dreams. Thanks for the save, by the way. What about you? Catch some bad dreams yourself?”

“Something like that,” Shiro replied, looking from the bowl to Lance's face. “Are you wearing food goo?”

“It's weirdly good for your skin,” Lance argued, before the fight bled away from his features. Softer, he continued, “I have delicate skin. It needs constant care or it dries out and my pores get all clogged.”

Shiro blinked, not expecting that kind of answer. He hummed, looking around the room awkwardly. “But why food goo? Wouldn't there be actual stuff for your skin laying around the place?”

“You'd think,” Lance grumbled. “You really would think that. But no. I tried to find a good facial cleanser and nearly wound up melting my face off with _engine grease_.”

“You didn't,” Shiro groaned, before squinting close at Lance's face. Lance balked, one hand raising to his chest in offense.

“Excuse you, I avoided that.” Lance moved his hand up to frame his face, closing his eyes primly. “I asked Coran what I found before doing anything with it. No way I'm risking this beauty like that.” Coughing, Lance ducked his head, and gestured toward the table. “Nah, I'm sticking with food goo. I already know it's not going to kill me or melt my face off.”

“But food goo?” Shiro grimaced at the idea of smearing it on his face. “We eat that.”

“And it dries up into a paste that absorbs and moisturizes like nothing I've used before.” Lance grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Dude, my face has never been clearer. I'm practically glowing, Shiro, this stuff is like magic. The only downside is that I'm pretty sure it has a smell, and that smell is rubbing off on me.” Lance made a disgusted face. “I don't want to smell like food goo, Shiro. Please tell me I don't smell like food goo.”

Shiro smiled, reaching out to pat Lance on the shoulder. “You don't smell like food goo, Lance. You actually smell...” He paused, leaning closer and taking a deep breath. Pulling away, Shiro stared down at Lance, shocked. “You smell kind of flower-y.”

“That's the shampoo,” Lance sagely replied, looking embarrassed. Shiro sat down, feeling a flush creep over his face as he realized what he'd just done. “I asked Allura and she showed me this room full of shampoos and soaps. Turns out the Alteans were really into hygiene. Not face hygiene, because they're evolutionary _cheaters_ with perfect skin, but there's a ton of stuff that you can dig through. I could show you some time.”

“I'd like that,” Shiro answered, thinking about taking a couple hours in the future to bathe and really give himself a good soak. Not that he couldn't do it now, or when they weren't training, but Shiro didn't feel like he could do that. He didn't feel like he had earned the right to pamper himself.

“You know, I think we could convince Allura to give us a half-day,” Lance began, looking up at Shiro slyly. “We could make a spa day out of it. A spa half-day. Maybe even sneak out to space mall and raid the fountains again. There's this store full of Earth stuff from, like, the 1980s, and it's run by the best thing ever—a gray alien with a huge head.” Lance looked up at Shiro, beaming. “Roswell was real, and so is Area 51.”

“Lance,” Shiro groaned. “That place was turned into the Galaxy Garrison. And it was just an old legend.”

An old legend that Shiro believed in, but not that he would ever admit it to Lance. It was bad enough that Keith knew, having co-opted Shiro's old conspiracy corkboard back on Earth in his search for the Blue Lion.

“Little gray alien men are real, Shiro,” Lance countered, jabbing an accusing finger. “And just because they turned the place into a school for _astro-explorers_ doesn't mean it never happened.”

“I thought you didn't believe in aliens,” Shiro complained, standing up to get a water pack. “Pidge said something about you being skeptical before I crashed down.”

“That was back before we knew aliens were real.” Lance waved him off. “Now that I do, I had to rethink all that I knew about aliens. Which is basically that old legend about Area 51.” He shrugged. “Not like there was a lot there, but that shop in space mall proved that aliens visited Earth on the regular.”

“Just look at Kaltenecker,” Shiro acknowledged, the edges of his lips tilting in agreement.

“Exactly!” Lance cried, waving his hands before slumping down onto the table. Shiro grabbed a second water pack, setting beside Lance's head. Lance groaned, long and low. “Why does Pidge have to be right all the time? She's such a genius I swear.” Lance peeked up at Shiro suspiciously. “You should ask her about how we knew about Voltron sometime. I bet you'd love to talk conspiracy with her.”

“You don't know me,” Shiro said mildly, taking a long sip of his water pack to avoid letting Lance know just how close to the mark he'd hit. Swallowing, he continued, “I contain layers. Like onions.”

Lance lifted his head, staring at Shiro. “Shrek, Shiro? Really?”

Shiro shrugged nonchalantly. “It's a good fairy tale.”

Lance opened his mouth before closing it, and nodded in acceptance. Grabbing his water pack, Lance squinted at Shiro's clothes as he took a sip. “You know, if you sleep in your clothes that wears them out faster. And I'm pretty sure that some of the clothes that Coran's got laying around the Castle are horrible things we shouldn't ever wear.” Lance shuddered. “Seriously, I've gone digging deep into my closet, and there's a lot of stuff that I'm really suspicious about.”

“It can't be that bad,” Shiro commented, even as his mind brought forth a plethora of images of clothes that were _incredibly_ inappropriate for polite conversation. A brief image of himself in the clothes crossed his mind before he shoved it aside. Lance blinked up at Shiro guilelessly, and a new image came up, of Lance wearing the clothes, oversized though they may be. He saw Lance standing before his bed, the baggy pants dangling loosely off of his hips, vest slumped past one shoulder. Shiro flushed, turning away and taking another sip of his water pack, banishing the image before it could create more problems. Lance straightened up, looking at Shiro with suspicion before sighing.

“Oh, if only,” Lance wistfully replied. Standing, he grabbed the bowl of food goo and his water pack. “Well, I'm heading back for another go at sleep. You should too.”

“Maybe later,” Shiro replied, still sipping at his water pack. He didn't feel quite up to standing just yet, with the image of Lance in the oversized clothes lingering like a photonegative every time Shiro blinked. He felt even less like attempting sleep, felt too awake, too keyed up to even try. Maybe he would switch over to his armor, have another go in the training deck until he was too exhausted to think.

“Okay then,” Lance said, turning to leave. “Just, like, don't go training or whatever. If you really can't sleep, I think Allura's got some tea or something to help.”

“Not Coran?” Shiro asked, blinking up at Lance in surprise.

“Nah,” Lance snorted. “Coran's idea of relaxing is finding some new corner of the Castle and cleaning it until it sparkles.” He shivered. “I am not doing that again. This place is big _and_ old enough that there's no telling what ghosts haunt this place.”

“Go ghost hunting with me.” The words came out before Shiro could stop them, and he blinked his shock as Lance gaped, taken aback. “We could go ghost hunting. The Castle's a huge place, and we still don't know all that much about it. Mapping it out could make the place seem less...”

“Huge and more than a little intimidating?” Lance dryly finished. Shiro nodded, clamping his mouth shut. Lance regarded Shiro for a moment before sighing and nodding. “Yeah, sure. It beats having to be Pidge's rubber duck.” Lance shook his head. “Man, I thought you were going to ask me to train with you or something.”

“We could do that too,” Shiro offered, cursing how his mouth kept moving without input from his brain. “There's bound to be a couple missions where we have to work together, like when we rescued Slav, so knowing what we can do can really help.” Shiro shrugged. “Plus, we can help each other. You're pretty handy with that blaster, you could probably teach me a thing or two. And I could help you with close combat.”

Lance stared at Shiro in confusion, before grinning. “That sounds pretty awesome. Walk me back to my room?”

Shiro looked out into the hallway, thinking about their conversation a moment before, about ghosts. “I can do that.”

They walked down the hallway side by side, and Shiro found himself regaled with some of Lance's tales from his time at the Garrison, starting with a physics project he worked on with Hunk and ending with how the model ship they'd created nearly crashed into General Graham's car.

“I was showing how well it could maneuver!” Lance defended when Shiro nearly doubled over laughing. “Maneuverability is important in space ships, otherwise how can it avoid space debris or comets or asteroids!”

“Is that why you always do those trick moves when flying?” Shiro asked, amusement bleeding heavily into his voice.

“Blue loves them just like me,” Lance hotly replied, a faint flush appearing even through his face mask. “Plus – how can I _not_ do some of those? We can't do _half_ that stuff with the ships from Earth!”

“That's a good point,” Shiro admitted, thinking wistfully of the Icarus, the ship he'd flown to Kerberos. He wondered what happened to it, if it was still sitting there on Kerberos, if the Galra had it brought it and salvaged it into scrap metal.

“Don't know it until you try a corkscrew barrel roll,” Lance threatened, a smile on his face. “It's a ton of fun, and with that jawblade Black's got you could take out a ton of Galra fighters.”

“I'll have to try it sometime then,” Shiro replied, smiling. Lance paused, and Shiro blinked, looking up at the door to his own room. He hadn't realized that they were going this way, and he looked back at Lance, who stared up at him expectantly. “I guess this is good night.”

“Looks that way,” Lance replied, sounding too smug for his own good. Clearly, Shiro realized, this had been planned on Lance's part. “I think I can manage the rest of the way back to my room on my own. See you in the morning?”

“Bright and early,” Shiro replied. “I'm holding you to that promise to train.”

Lance groaned dramatically, but winked at Shiro as he went off down to his own room. “Only if you hold to that promise to try some of those trick moves the next time we're in a fight! Now get some sleep.”

“Looks that way,” Shiro echoed Lance's words, and chuckled as he stepped into his room. He stopped mid-step, surprised by a sudden yawn. “I guess I am going back to sleep after all.”

* * *

The next day saw Shiro standing across from Lance in the training deck. Lance fiddled with his bayard, tossing it from hand to hand nervously.

“So how does this work?” Lance asked, looking over at Shiro with a hesitant smile. “Are we going up against those flying blaster things again? Or the gladiator bot? Or, like, the maze? Man, I hate that thing—I can never get through it!”

“Actually,” Shiro began, settling into a loose fighting stance. “I had something else in mind. Put away your bayard, we're going to see how well you can throw a punch.”

“What?” Lance gaped at Shiro, his bayard dematerializing. “I– what? Shiro, what the cheese?”

“Try and land a hit on me,” Shiro calmly stated, raising a challenging eyebrow. “It's the only way I can really know how good or bad you are before we can start.”

Lance huffed, nodding and grinning in challenge. “Alright fine. If that's how you want to play, then let's go.”

Lance rushed at Shiro, throwing out a direct punch that Shiro blocked and used to turn Lance around, pinning him to Shiro's chest. Lance groaned, and growled.

“Unfair,” Lance grumbled. “You're, like, all buff and stuff. How am I supposed to do this?”

Shiro grinned, leaning in close to whisper in Lance's ear. “You're doing alright so far. Maybe try something else this time. You're creative, Lance. You'll think of something.”

Lance fell out of Shiro's arms, falling to the floor. Huffing in laughter, Lance struck out with one leg, which Shiro caught, and bounced up off the ground with his arms as Shiro made to flip him. The flip left Lance on his feet, back to Shiro, and he spun to face the older teen, laughing as he ducked Shiro's hits, bouncing on the balls of his feet and performing an acrobatic backflip to put some distance between them.

“Man, it's been a while since I pulled out those moves,” Lance groaned, rubbing at the small of his back. He grinned at Shiro, amusement infectious as Shiro laughed. Lance went after Shiro again, and ducked the first strike, only to have Shiro lash out, grabbing the back of his collar and tossing him aside.

“Closer,” Shiro taunted, smiling himself. Lance got to his feet, circling Shiro, but keeping his distance. “Where did you learn all that?”

“My cousin's a gymnast,” Lance replied. “She's training to qualify for the olympics. She's pretty amazing.”

Lance did a flip, nearly hitting Shiro with a kick before Shiro dodged to the side. Shiro threw a punch that was caught, and Lance yanked on Shiro's arm, unbalancing him for the slimmest moment. The two of them went down, Lance landing on his back, and he grinned to revel in his victory before realizing that Shiro's hand was loosely wrapped around his throat.

Shiro looked down at his opponent—at _Lance_ , at his arm pressed to Lance's throat, and pulled away.

“That's a good start,” he began, looking Lance over as he reaffirmed his place in reality—he was in the Castle, he wasn't in the arena, and Lance wasn't another opponent he had to take down. He thought he could do this, thought he was in a place where he could manage his own mind.

“It's a great start,” Lance replied, reaching out a hand for Shiro to take. Pulling Lance to his feet, Shiro stepped away, pulling his helmet off to scrub at his face. “We did a lot more than I expected. Even though there was that weird flashback-y thing at the end, I think we did okay.”

Shiro froze, looking at Lance in shock. Lance paused, matching Shiro's shocked stare before looking away, thumbing at the door.

“Hey I just remembered I promised to help Coran clean and recalibrate one of the thrusters so, bye!” Lance jogged toward the door, ignoring Shiro's call for him to wait.

Shiro ran after Lance, their training forgotten. He wanted to know how Lance had known. Usually Shiro was good at keeping stuff like that to himself, at containing his slips, but somehow Lance had seen right through them.

“Sorry Shiro I can't answer your questions,” Lance called back, as if reading Shiro's mind. “I promised Coran, remember?”

Shiro slowed to a stop, watching Lance's retreating form, and shook his head. Maybe it was just the once. Maybe there was nothing to it. After all, he had just had his hand wrapped around Lance's throat – it could have been that his action alone was enough for Lance to guess.

Later, at lunch, Shiro didn't bring it up and Lance acted like nothing had happened.

* * *

Two days later saw Voltron fighting a Galra force that had claimed a lone planet to mine for resources. Jakkone was a forest planet lush with life, almost similar to a rainforest, and it's people were serpentine, but the caves spanning one side of the planet produced an ore that channeled the energy of Balmera crystal with astounding efficiency. Or so Coran said.

Thankfully, this mission was a lot easier than the one before, with Shiro sending Lance and Pidge down planetside to take out the land forces while he, Hunk, and Keith all kept the forces and fighters in the air from noticing that their mining operations were literally going up in flames.

Fighting in Black was fantastic, not the least because Shiro got to experience the joy of flying again, but also because Shiro was infinitely less likely to end up injured by some random drone that he hadn't seen. Not getting injured was his second favorite part of fighting in Black, just below the part where Black was the biggest and best fighter and it never mattered whether they were outnumbered or not because he could still take everything on.

Shiro took out a fighter drone, Black biting into it and using it as a crude jawblade to smash into three other fighters. A thought occurred to him, and he summoned the jawblade, flying at the fleet ship. Shiro grinned, biting back laughter as he pulled into a corkscrew barrel roll around the ship, the jawblade slicing through it the whole while. When he looked back, the fleet ship was going up in flames, exploding and breaking apart. Black rumbled in amusement, and Shiro could almost imagine Lance watching from the surface, crowing in laughter.

“Really Shiro?” Keith groaned, his face popping up on Shiro's screen. “Did you have to fly like Lance for that?”

“It was effective,” Shiro defended, and Keith gave him a forlorn look, like Shiro had just offended everything he ever lived for.

“Dude,” Hunk appeared, looking anxious. “We've still got all these other fighters trying to kill us! Normally I'd be all for heckling Shiro's flying, but can we save it until we're not getting shot at?”

A spark of alarm crossed through the back of Shiro's mind, and he flew low into the atmosphere, pulling up comms.

“Lance, Pidge, talk to me?” he asked, leaving Hunk and Keith to take out the last of the fighters. Now that the fleet ship directing them was gone, they were swarming aimlessly at everything. “How are you with retaking those mines?”

“Pidge shut down the main controls,” Lance responded, grunting as blaster fire rang in the background. “But we're holding our own. You guys got the lion's share of all the Galra. And that's the last of them!” Lance let out a breathy laugh. “We're clear here. Oh, hey Shiro! I can see you!”

Shiro looked out over the landscape, and saw a spot of blue atop a cliff, surrounded by fallen sentry drones. Descending, Shiro could hear Lance's laughter through the comms, and could even see that Lance wave his bayard in the air to catch his attention.

“I see you,” Shiro replied, a smile on his face. Behind Lance, three of the drones got to their feet, blasters in hand. Shiro opened his mouth to warn Lance, because Black's own tail laser was too huge and the drones were too close to Lance, when–

Lance lowered his bayard, firing a volley of shots at the drones, hitting them square in the chest and head. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Shiro, hadn't so much as tilted his head to acknowledge that he'd heard anything.

Shiro gaped at Lance, who turned to look at the downed drones before returning to face Shiro and Black.

“Dude, did you _see_ that?” Lance crowed, bouncing in place. He punched the air with his free hand, and Shiro could hear Lance's smile. “I am _totally_ the ninja sharpshooter!”

“How did you know they were there?” Shiro asked, focused on Lance. “Did you hear them?”

“I– what?” Lance tilted his head, and Shiro wished he was close enough to see Lance's face, so he could know what expression was running across it. He could almost see the worry, the confusion, the suspicion, and then, along with the spark of alarm in the back of Shiro's mind, there was something else, something that Shiro swore felt like Lance screaming at him to fire at an enemy approaching from behind.

Blindly firing from Black's tail laser, Shiro pulled up his scanners, gaping when he saw his two shots hit a pair of fighter drones that had followed him down. He hadn't known they were there, and he hadn't seen them—but they were directly in Lance's line of sight.

“What just happened?” Shiro asked, looking down at Lance in shock. In the back of his mind, he could almost feel the shock mirrored in Lance. “Lance?”

“I don't know,” Lance replied, his voice small. “But we should probably talk about it back at the Castle.”

Shiro nodded, and almost replied when he felt the presence in the back of his mind twist and pull away. Black filled the empty area, rumbling in comfort and giving Shiro the impression that what had just happened was a good thing. He didn't reply, but couldn't see how that was even possible.

* * *

Shiro paced his lounge, the stars shining through the window. He ran through all past interactions with Lance, going over them again and again. He tried to see if there was any indication of whatever this connection was, and came up empty. There wasn't nearly enough information for him to go off of, and without hearing Lance's side Shiro doubted he could explain what it was to anyone else.

Shaking off the rest of the team had been more than enough of a challenge, Shiro didn't want to figure out how to explain this, this...

Shiro paused in his pacing, eyes widening as he considered what little he knew. It had felt almost similar to when they formed Voltron, and a lot similar to how it felt to have Black in the back of his mind, which meant it was connected to how they bonded as Paladins. And if he had an in on Lance's mind and Lance had the same then...

“Huh,” Shiro said, wrapping one arm over his stomach. He used his arm to brace his other elbow against, slipping his chin against the heel of his hand. “Not who I would have guessed I'd be drift compatible with.”

“What the cheese is drift compatible?”

Shiro turned to see Lance step into the room, frowning at him in confusion.

“It's a thing,” Shiro answered. “From Pacific Rim.”

“The...” Lance blinked, still baffled. “The ring of fire?”

“It's a movie,” Shiro explained, rolling his eyes. “Giant robots piloted by two people to fight these Godzilla monsters coming from a dimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific.”

“Yeah, that's not explaining anything for me,” Lance replied, shaking his head. “I don't watch the giant monster movies. I like thrillers and small scale horror movies. The hunter becomes the hunted.”

Lance held his arms up in a creeper's pose before straightening up. Shiro watched it all, nonplussed.

“Drift compatible is a concept from the movie Pacific Rim,” Shiro continued, not breaking eye contact with Lance. “Because the robots were so large, they couldn't connect one person in charge of the robot, so they had to bring in two people who operate on the same wavelength to pilot one robot. Most of the pilots were family or really close friends or even lovers.” Shiro shook his head in amusement as Lance hurriedly nodded along. He made a mental note to see if they could find a copy of the movie somewhere—either at the space mall, or if Pidge or Keith had a copy hidden away somewhere. Shiro really wanted Lance to understand what he was talking about, and he also really wanted others to see just how awesome Pacific Rim was. “It's a lot like how we do the mind melding thing to create Voltron. We synch our minds together to pilot a huge robot just like they do in the movie.”

“Huh.” Lance nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That makes a whole lot more sense than my idea of it being some weird lion bonding thing. Mind melding seems a lot less creepy than sudden magic paladin mind-reading powers.” He hummed. “But that still doesn't explain us. I thought we were only supposed to have the mind meld thing happen when we're forming Voltron? If we're looking into each other's mindholes all the time then that's just—that's a level of not privacy I cannot stand for, Shiro. I need my mind privacy. I come from a large family living in a not big enough house, mind privacy is one of the biggest things I need.”

“I know.” Shiro groaned, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “We'll just have to go to Allura or Coran and see if they know anything.”

“Can we... maybe not?” Lance asked. “Like, I know they could really help, but if we go to them then Allura's going to get that happy sparkle in her eyes that I know means I'm going to lay in bed covered in bruises.”

“Lance,” Shiro chided, before wincing in defeat. He knew as well as Lance just how excitable Allura was about training them in a new ability. But... the idea of not telling Allura didn't sit right with Shiro. She was, in effect, the real leader here. She told them where to go and directed the team in battle just as much as Shiro did. He couldn't avoid telling anyone about this, not when it could change things. “We have to tell someone. Allura's our best bet.”

“What about Coran?” Lance asked. “He knows a lot more about this than Allura. I've heard a lot of his stories about the stuff the old Paladins got into. And Coran's, like, the only adult here.”

“Allura's an adult too. And so am I,” Shiro pointed out. Lance gave him a disbelieving and judgmental stare. Shiro met it head on for as long as he could, before conceding. “Fine. But Coran's...”

Coran might be the oldest, but he was just a bit too... exuberant for Shiro to handle. He didn't think that Coran could or would keep this... whatever it was a secret. Especially not if he really knew what was going on.

“Dude!” Lance protested, looking offended. “Coran's a good person! He's been keeping the whole Castle flying with what little help he's gotten from me and Hunk. He'll listen to us if he ask him to keep things on the down low.”

Shiro froze, looking at Lance in shock. “Lance, stop– stay out of my head!”

“I'm _trying_!” Lance whined, pulling at his hair. “I'm trying and it's hard and you can't just– I've been trying, Shiro. There's only so much I can really shut out without being afraid that I'm keeping us from forming Voltron. It's _exhausting_. I'm exhausted.”

Shiro grabbed Lance's hands, pulling them away. Lance looked okay, but now that Shiro knew what to look for, he could see the hints of bags under Lance's eyes, see the way he sagged with exhaustion.

“Hey,” Shiro began, softly. He pulled Lance into a loose hug, being as gentle as he could. “It's okay. You're doing your best, but you don't need to keep everything to yourself. It's okay to get help.” He thought about Lance's words, about how long it would have to have been going on. He pressed a kiss to Lance's scalp, hoping it was half as comforting as he wanted it to be. “Lance, how long has this been happening?”

“A week, I think,” Lance replied, voice muffled by Shiro's armor. “At least, that's when I really noticed it. I got flashes of emotion from Hunk and Keith, and then there was more and it's just– there's been so much. Emotions and thoughts and flashes of the stuff going through everyone's minds and– and dreams.”

Lance turned his head, turning away from Shiro.

“Dreams?” Shiro asked, thinking about Lance's behavior the past few days. He stiffened, and pulled Lance closer, his arms tightening. “The other night. You weren't awake because of your dreams. Did you–”

“I saw enough,” Lance replied, his voice small. “Not all of it. But I saw enough to get what you were remembering, I guess.”

“You shouldn't have seen that,” Shiro said, his voice quivering with dull anger. “I didn't want–”

Didn't want what? Didn't want to remember it? Didn't want Lance to see it? Didn't want Lance to know about it?

Shiro didn't want anyone to know about his time with the Galra. It was bad enough that he knew, bad enough that it had changed him so much. He was lucky to still be half the person he was before. Even the mere memories of his time, however little there was, left Shiro feeling like a stranger wearing his own skin, playing at being himself. Shiro didn't want to see how any of the others would react if they knew what had happened to him, what he'd done.

“We'll go to Coran,” Shiro finally said. “We're going to get you help. You shouldn't have to deal with this.”

“Neither should you,” Lance quietly murmured.

* * *

In retrospect, Shiro really should have pushed for Allura instead of Coran. Of the two Alteans, Shiro was sure that Allura wouldn't have had him and Lance immediately put on their armor and go down to a room with something that looked like a ping-pong table and sat at either side of it with strict instructions not to move and left them alone.

Shiro looked at Lance, who matched his baffled expression, before shrugging helplessly. Shiro felt, in that moment, the deepest betrayal. No one should be so content to accept their situation, much less when they weren't explained a single thing. Lance blinked, pausing in his quiet rocking and frowned at Shiro.

“Okay then!” Coran chirped, stepping back into the room. He carried several things in his hands, and had Pidge, Hunk, and Keith trailing behind, also in their armor. “I wasn't expecting to make it to this level of your training but you Paladins continue to surprise. Today we will be doing a number of trust exercises.”

“Trust exercises?” Hunk repeated in disbelief. “Like, trust falls?”

“Not the invisible maze _again_ ,” Lance groaned. “I still get numbness from that sometimes.”

“It's called your limb falling asleep, Lance,” Pidge dryly replied. “You don't have nerve damage from that thing. We'd know if you did.”

“Coran,” Shiro began, looking over the others tightly. “What's happening here?”

“As I said, an advanced paladin training: trust exercises!” Coran cheerfully repeated, and every human squinted at him when he held up a pair of massive pincers. Coran glanced at the pincers before tossing them over his shoulder. “Apologies. I grabbed too many items in my enthusiasm. I've not had to use this since that time King Alfor and Gyrgan had to appear to wed Blaytz and Zarkon to draw out the renegade Unilu pirate queen Avokka. It was a touching ceremony, if I do say so myself.” Coran sighed, wiping away an imaginary tear—or a real one? Shiro couldn't tell. “Such a shame the wedding couldn't last.”

Shiro shared a baffled look with Lance, feeling not a small amount of fear.

“I'm not getting married,” Keith declared, leaning away from Coran.

“Yeah, I agree with Keith here,” Pidge said, moving to look at the table. “We're not old enough to get married.” She paused. “Okay, technically we all are, but I'm still voting no on marriage.”

“Really Pidge?” Shiro began before he could stop the words. “You don't want a harem of men?”

Lance snorted, while Hunk had to turn away to hide his laughter. Pidge met Shiro's nonchalant look with a hard glare.

“No marriage,” Pidge ground out. “I know your secrets. I know everything. I will spill all.”

Shiro looked at Pidge for a moment longer, and nodded decisively. Pidge was serious about her threat, and it was long past due for him to do damage control. “Okay, no marriage. Not that there was ever a chance of marriage anyway.” Lance looked at Shiro, a sly smirk growing on his face, and he repeated, insistent, “No marriage.”

Coran nodded, satisfied. “Of course not. I was referring to vellinog. It's a strategy game much like aggorhan, although it's fit for children.”

Coran smiled, and Shiro thought back to when they first went up against the gladiator bot all those months ago, and of that time that Allura picked him up and tossed him into the escape pod like he was a sack of flour. If _that_ was fit for an Altean child, then Shiro never wanted to know what aggorhan was, or what was even fit for an Altean adult or teenager. Shiro felt the phantom pains of bruising across his chest, and blinked when Lance idly rubbed his chest where Shiro felt the phantom aches.

“This isn't going to hurt, is it?” Lance asked, eying the table warily. “Because I still feel the hurt from that first day.”

“I know,” Shiro responded, drawing Lance's attention. Lance winced, and Shiro offered him a small smile. Better Shiro feel Lance's old hurt than Lance feel any of his own.

“Okay, what's going on here?” Pidge asked, looking from Shiro to Lance suspiciously. “Something's happening.”

“What's happening is Lance and Shiro here have bonded to such a level that they are becoming aware of the other's mind,” Coran answered. He reached out, making a fancy gestured over Shiro's head, and Shiro had to repress the urge to swat Coran's hands away. “So now we will be testing all of you for this ability by having you play vellinog.”

“Wait wait wait.” Hunk held up his hands, giving Coran a flat look. “You mean that we're looking into each other's mindholes all the time?”

“Not _always_ ,” Lance replied, before wincing. “And it's not all of us. Maybe. I mean, I haven't noticed anyone else poking around the mindholes.”

“You've been looking into my mindhole?!” Pidge screeched, affronted. “I _told_ you that I don't want anyone poking around through my mindhole! What have you seen. _What do you know_?”

“It's not poking!” Lance defended himself. “Not... entirely. It's one part mindhole poking, one part... almost like mind reading, I guess?” Lance turned red, and continued to babble. “I-I mean, I get a lot of impressions and–and sometimes there's images or clear thoughts but–”

Shiro tilted his head, looking at Lance in concern. He was turning redder and redder, and Pidge was smirking. Shiro wondered what it was that Lance was getting from Pidge, and he froze as an image sprang to mind, of Keith in the training deck, his chest heaving and shirt clinging as he bent over to–

“Pidge!” Shiro ordered, feeling his voice start to crack and his face burn a bright red. “Stop thinking about Keith like that!”

“Like what?” Keith demanded, suspicious and on the edge of upset.

Pidge cackled, and Shiro looked at Lance. Together, the same thought sprang through their mind, and they shared a sly grin.

“Well,” Lance began. “It seems Pidge here has access to the security feed.”

“And she likes looking at you when you train,” Shiro continued, and relished in how Pidge froze, staring at Shiro in betrayal and horror.

“Specifically,” Lance finished, a canary-eating grin on his face that Shiro felt mirrored on his own, “she likes looking at your–”

“Nope!” Pidge screamed, leaping at Lance and shoving her hands up against his mouth. “We're done! Test concluded! You two have magic mind reading powers now and you will say no more!”

Shiro threw his arms up in surrender when Pidge glared his way, and he gave her a soft smile. “Hey, I didn't say anything.”

“Yeah, you kind of did,” Hunk replied, nonplussed. “And if it's about how Pidge keeps staring at Keith's butt every chance she gets, then I already know about it.”

“She _what_?” Keith yelped, face flushing nearly as deep a red as his jacket. His hands scrambled to cover his bottom even as Pidge screeched and leapt at Hunk. Shiro laughed, reaching out and patting Keith on the elbow.

“It's okay. She's too busy attempting to maim Hunk to look.” Shiro grinned through Keith's affronted gaping, and tentatively lowered his hands back to his sides. After a group effort to calm Pidge down, Keith stood behind Pidge while Coran gestured to the table in earnest.

“Vellinog is a mighty game, often played between opposing generals as a means of testing who would win in battle. However, we shall be testing you a different way.” Coran tapped on a console, and the ping-pong table lit up. Shiro's view of Lance became obscured by a glowing green grid, while a blue grid appeared on the table before him. Images of ships of various sizes, ranging from little podships to massive fleet cruisers that must have rivaled the Castle in size appeared in one corner, half a dozen in all. “Now, the intent of the game is to play out a mock battle, but for this exercise I should think playing it blind should work. Each of you has a battalion of ships of various types to set about your gridspace, and your intent is to fire at the gridspace of your opponent. The grid in question will then light up a nice purple if it's a miss, and a very sad pink if it is a hit. Hit all the gridspace a ship occupies and that ship is slovendayho!”

Shiro stared at the board in disbelief. He knew what this game was. He had played it a lot when he was a kid.

“This is Battleship,” Lance declared, his tone matching Shiro's disbelief. “This is unbelievable.”

“It's better than Guess Who?” Shiro offered weakly, and after a beat heard Lance's laughter as well as got a sense of deep amusement from the back of his mind—from Lance, Shiro realized.

“So... is reading minds a thing now?” Hunk asked Coran as Shiro and Lance set up their boards. “Because I don't know how I feel about that.”

“I feel invaded,” Pidge grumbled, while Keith made a noise of assent. After a moment he looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you really hack the cameras to look at my butt?”

“Okay I'm ready!” Lance loudly declared, and Shiro winced at the embarrassment he got from Lance.

“Same,” Shiro said, and Coran hummed. He looked up at the empty grid, then at Coran. “Do we just tap at the space we want to hit?”

Coran nodded, and everyone fell silent as Shiro reached up, moving his hand over the squares. He reached out, letting his mind open. Black purred louder, approving, and Shiro could feel Lance, could almost...

_There!_

Shiro tapped a square, and Lance groaned. Opening his eyes, Shiro smiled at the pink square now on the field. A moment later, one of his own squares lit up pink, and Shiro's elation slipped away, blending in with Lance's own fierce determination. He couldn't see Lance, but Shiro knew that the smirk he wore was mirrored on the other's face.

Closing his eyes, Shiro opened his mind for the next attack.

* * *

Shiro fell to the ground, scrambling away from the table—from his bed, clutching his right arm close. His fist was clenched shut, and as much as he wanted it to open, as much as he wanted his hand to stop hurting, it did. Shooting pains that had Shiro gritting his teeth and made his neck muscles ache from strain.

Reality returned to Shiro in fits and starts, the room flickering between his bedroom in the Castle, clean and immaculate, to the operating room back with the Galra, dark and stained with his blood. Each blink he took sent him to a different location, until Shiro's heart slowed down to a more steady drumbeat than the frantically booming pounding it had been a moment before.

“Shiro?” Lance called out, knocking on the door, and Shiro grunted to his feet.

“I'm fine!” he called out through clenched teeth, stumbling back over to his bed. He hated this, hated that his own nightmare kept Lance from sleep, hated that Lance had to endure Shiro's own memories when he shouldn't have to. This was Shiro's past, Shiro's memories, Shiro's nightmares; none of it was something Lance, or any of his team, should ever have to endure.

“No you're not,” Lance said, almost too quiet to be heard. Louder he said, “I'm coming in! I've got water packs.”

Shiro looked over at the door, at Lance wrapped up in his robe, at the trio of water packs precariously stuffed in his hands. Lance gave Shiro a small smile, and Shiro hoped he returned it, if only in his eyes. Lance's smile grew fonder, and he went to sit beside Shiro on the bed.

“You know, you don't have to hold everything in,” Lance began, sticking a straw into one of the water packs. “It's alright to let others know you need help sometimes.”

Shiro took the offered water pack in his off hand, his right hand still clenching painfully tight. He gave Lance a strained smile, knowing that Lance could feel into his mind, knowing that Lance was doing his best not to do exactly that. “Well, when I find a professional shrink out here, then I'll tell them.”

Lance laughed, and it sounded like the sweetest thing Shiro had ever heard, and left him chuckling in Lance's wake.

“I'm serious, though,” Lance replied, looking over at Shiro. “Even if I couldn't see into your mindhole I'd want you to open up to someone.”

“Like you?” Shiro teased, gulping down half the water pack. Lance smiled wanly, and Shiro winced. “Sorry. I'm sorry Lance. That came out mean.”

“It's alright. I'm used to meaner.” Lance hummed, turning over one of the water packs in his hands. “I'm the youngest of four kids. And an uncle to two little tots. Nothing you say will ever hurt quite like when little Mara called me a meanie poopyhead because I had to enforce bedtime.”

Shiro felt a spark of bittersweet nostalgia run through his mind, and reached out, patting Lance on the knee. “There, there?”

Lance snorted. “Wow. You're terrible at consoling people.”

“What can I say?” Shiro shrugged helplessly. “I'm naturally good at giving pep talks and uplifting speeches but put me in a room with someone's personal issues and I'm like a blind hippo in a fine china shop.”

“A blind hippo?” Lance gave Shiro heavy side-eye, although it came with an amused smile.

Shiro shook his head. “I don't know. I didn't want to say bull because they're actually pretty docile and the hippo is the most aggressive creature I know so...”

Shiro trailed off, and Lance covered his mouth, muffling his laughter. He chuckled, draining the last of the water pack and tossing it toward the trash chute. The water pack bounced off the side, and Lance grinned, moving to dump it in for Shiro.

“You've got terrible aim,” Lance commented.

“I know,” Shiro sighed. “It's why I'm glad that the galra ships are such huge targets—I can never miss when I fire at them.”

He blinked when Lance reached out with his right hand, smiling. “Well, we've got time. I think we can spare half a varga and see if I can't improve your aim any. Who knows, if you still prove terrible, then you've still got your ace sharpshooter to cover you.”

Shiro looked at Lance's outstretched hand, looked at Lance's sincere smile, and took hold of it. “I think I'll stick with my ace sharpshooter. I hear he's a terrific shot.”

“He can no-scope a small moving target from over fifty yards,” Lance added with a smug smile. Shiro snorted, clapping Lance on the shoulder.

“And he's an amazing friend,” Shiro finished, looking Lance in the eye. He felt more relaxed, now that Lance had helped him, and felt even more like his old self than usual. Maybe there was something to having someone there for him to rely on. “I'd love to have him at my back.”

* * *

The next mission had them go to a planet that was practically a swarming technological metropolis, covered in tall buildings. One of which was the information hub for the Galra, which both Pidge and Allura wanted access to—although both wanted it for different reasons.

Currently, Shiro was alone, again, facing off against a dozen sentry drones, _again_.

He really, honestly, hated how his life went sometimes.

Lance sent amusement his way, and Shiro held up his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright,” he began, looking them over. If he timed it right, he would only have to take out five, maybe six. “I will accept your defeat. Lay down your weapons and you won't be taken out.”

The drones raised their blasters in response, aiming at Shiro.

“I do warn you,” Shiro continued, smirking confidently. “I have magic mind powers. You won't make it out of here to report to your charging stations or whatever it is you report to.”

Three of the drones aimed.

Shiro ducked below their blasts, his hand lighting up. Five laser blasts came down from above, taking out five of the sentry drones in the time it took for Shiro to take down two. Sending a thrill of excitement and pride Lance's way, Shiro took hold of a blaster and badly shot at a third drone before it was sniped from Lance's position several stories up one of the buildings. Two more drones were sniped, leaving Shiro with just two drones. A plan formed in his mind, and he moved toward the drone on his left, before darting toward the drone to his right. A laser blast shot past him, taking out the drone to his left while Shiro expertly sliced through the last of the drones.

Straightening up, Shiro blinked when two most laser blasts fired through the air, taking out a pair of sentry drones that had just rounded the corner in pursuit. Laughing, Shiro turned to give Lance a cheeky salute, running down the street and toward his lion. He didn't worry about anyone coming after him, didn't worry about a surprise attack that he wouldn't see coming until it was too late.

Shiro wasn't alone in this. He had a team by his side, and a sharpshooter watching his back.

**Author's Note:**

> Incredible banner by nevermoree-the-raven and 13bella  
> Fantastic art by oligreyart: https://oligreyart.tumblr.com/post/167241602616/this-is-my-art-for-the-lovely-fic-bleeding-into  
> and nevermoree-the-raven: https://nevermoree-the-raven.tumblr.com/post/167252166325/my-contribution-for-the-shiro-big-bang  
> and 13bella: https://13bella.tumblr.com/post/167257543020/this-is-for-the-voltronbigbang-its-art-for


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